Her Secret Fantasy (6 page)

Nevertheless, he put the mysterious girl out of his mind for the moment. Lady Amherst had wrapped herself around him and was demanding his attention.

“Good evening, Major,” she breathed in his ear. “You’re looking…healthy.”

“Why, thank you, my dear. I am feeling full of vigor,” he murmured, flicking a mischievous glance over her well-endowed figure. She giggled, and Derek bent to accept her lingering kiss on his cheek.

From behind her pale gold half-mask, her hazy-eyed stare devoured him. The woman was practically panting.

“So, what are you supposed to be tonight?” he asked, lifting the elegant young widow’s hand and taking a step back to inspect her costume, a frothy, pale confection of a gown with a plunging neckline that drew his gaze to her finest attractions.

“What do you think?” she exclaimed, nodding toward the tall, hooked staff that she carried in her other hand.

Derek shrugged indifferently.

“I’m a shepherdess, you dolt.”

“I don’t see any sheep.”

“I brought one, a toy, but I grew bored of carrying it around.”

“You might as well put this aside, then, too.” He removed the tall shepherd’s hook from her hand and leaned it against the nearby column. He bent closer, lowering his voice. “I’ve got another staff for you to play with.”

She suppressed a burst of laughter, her lovely face turning red beneath its dusting of white powder. “You are so wicked!”

“That’s why you love me.”

“You’re a heartless flirt, Major.”

“Dance with me,” he ordered, taking both her hands.

“No—wait. I’ve a better idea.” With a naughty smile, she crooked her finger at him.

Derek raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He leaned down, listening as she whispered in his ear.

“Ah, yes. Capital notion,” he murmured.

“I thought you’d like it.” She tugged on his shoulder and whispered again, this time flicking his earlobe with the tip of her tongue after she had given him his instructions.

Derek quivered. “When?”

“Now, silly. You go first,” she added in a sly whisper. “I’ll follow you out in a few minutes. That way, no one ought to notice that we’re gone.”

“Oh, they’ll notice,” he assured her, but she tossed her head.

“I don’t care! Let them talk.”

Derek smiled, amused by her brash independence.

“Go,” she urged him, clearly eager for her private lesson in the exotic Eastern arts of love.

Far be it from him to keep a countess waiting. Happy to oblige, Derek gave her a discreet bow and withdrew.

Marching out onto the terrace, Derek paused and scanned the night-clad grounds, then jogged down the few shallow steps to the main graveled walkway, flanked by quaint topiaries. From there, he set out to find this garden folly that his latest paramour had named as the location for their rendezvous…

CHAPTER

         
FOUR
         

J
asmine vines had scaled the dark-green boxwood walls of the garden maze and gave off sweet perfume as Lily ran past, her steps light and fleeting over the cool, silken grass. The distant sounds of tinkling music and revelers’ laughter from the ball floated out over the gardens from the sprawling manor house, but she did not look back.

Slipping through the shadows, she raced across the rolling parklands with a breathless sense of liberty.

The black velvet sky brimmed with stars, and the sound of the pond’s center fountain lilted in the night as she neared. By the reedy shore, a graceful little gondola bobbed gently.

There.

To her right, she spotted the garden folly silhouetted against the starry sky. Her smile grew as she ran toward it, lifting the hem of her gown to skim the grass. Reaching the structure, she stopped abruptly, heart pounding, and stood before it, slowly tipping her pale satin half-mask up over her brow to reveal an expression of childlike wonder and delight.

Magical.
The garden folly had been made in the shape of a giant pineapple.

How perfectly silly!

Delightful.
She shook her head to herself in pure enchantment and walked on. To be sure, the folly was very different from the one she had played in as a child—ah, but the feeling was the same. Her own little secret world.

A time of dreams and innocence…

Laying her hand on the railing, Lily went up its three low steps in silent, effervescent joy. Inside, she took a turn about the wood-planked floor, her sparkly pink skirts swirling about her.

All of a sudden she threw her head back and laughed aloud. The sound was light. She whirled over to the delicate railing and gazed out at the vista of the man-made lake. She thought of her father calling her “Princess Lily” and for once, the memory of him did not hurt.

Leaning wistfully against one of the columns that supported the pineapple roof, she let herself soak in the pleasure of this stolen moment, simply enjoying the lavish gardens, the sweetness of the summer night, and the tranquil solitude.

Soon enough she’d have to be getting back to Edward, but not yet.

With a pensive smile, she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the railing. As an afterthought, she pulled her mask back down into place across her eyes in case anyone came along, but her thoughts lingered in the past, lost in nostalgic reverie. What a little silly-head she had been, she mused, a dreamer just like her father.

Her imagination in those days could turn a well-situated boulder into her own Camelot, a toad into a fire-breathing dragon, and a row of acorns into a cavalry of brave knights sent out to chase the beast away. Back then, she had still believed in heroes, and had known at least three magic ways to make a wish come true.

But these had proved false, bitterly so, when they had failed to bring her father back. Broken-hearted, she had put her dreams and her wishing powers away. By now, she had forgotten her made-up incantations, and as for heroes, she had come to learn that they were even scarcer than real dragons.

No, she thought with a sigh as she gazed out over the dark landscape, the cavalry wasn’t coming. No one was going to ride to her rescue. It was up to her to save her clan.

An image of Edward the Minotaur rose in her mind with a surge of distress. Oh, if any of those silly old spells still worked…

Knowing it was sheer foolishness, she closed her eyes and for one moment—just for old times’ sake—made a wish with all her might.

Perhaps her need floated up to the stars and out across the ornamental water, as insubstantial as dandelion fluff, but you never knew. You just never knew…

She listened.

She waited.

She held her breath.

Nothing.

Well, naturally.

But then—her eyes still closed—she went stock-still, suddenly sensing a presence.

Her straining ears detected the scarcely audible creaking of the floorboards behind her.

“How did you get here before me?” a deep voice asked in a playful murmur that was all of a sudden right by her ear. Her jaw dropped as warm, strong arms smoothly encircled her waist.

Her eyes flew open and she looked down in wonder. Big, sun-tanned hands had wrapped around her with a tender motion, sturdy forearms sheathed in smart sleeves with handsome, gold-trimmed cuffs.

She stared down at them, slack-jawed.

How can this be?

Her wish could not
possibly
have come true. She wasn’t even sure what she had wished for!
Is this real?

Can this be happening?
The tall male form behind her certainly felt solid and powerful, radiating warmth; she leaned back slightly against him, just to make sure.

Egads, there was a man behind her!

She was in somebody’s arms! And it wasn’t Edward.

The air in her lungs fairly evaporated from her astonishment. She started to turn around with great indignation and then stopped abruptly, afraid the dream might dissipate. For it was then that the greatest shock of all came: the realization that it felt splendid, achingly wonderful to be held this way.

How many years had it been since someone had held her?

“You were supposed to wait, my girl,” he chided in a teasing whisper, leaning down to brush his lips along the curve of her ear. “But I suppose you couldn’t contain yourself, hm?”

Lily tensed, tongue-tied and quite baffled. Her heart was slamming in her chest, just above the cloud of butterflies dancing in her belly.

Oh, dear.

It struck her with some nervous hilarity that her visitor obviously had the wrong lady and hadn’t quite noticed it yet. Ah, yes—costume ball. Oh, how exceedingly awkward. Perhaps she should have been outraged, but his touch felt so,
so
good.

The big, sun-tanned hands had begun slowly stroking her bare arms, up and down, seductively. She swallowed hard and succumbed to a violent shudder.
Goodness.
His touch bespoke total self-assurance, and if there was any doubt left in her mind who had captured her, it fled when she caught the faint whiff of some exotic incense that clung to his uniform. Sandalwood, maybe.

Just arrived from India…

Dear Lord, she was out here alone with “the stud of the Season.”

Major Derek Knight.

“So, are you going to kiss me or what?” he whispered, and Lily simply melted at the question. Her heated blood and her heart answered in reckless unison—
how could she not?

This was madness.

She was not the woman he had come out to meet, but he had her full attention at the moment, and, God help her, her attraction to him was painfully acute. Oh, yes. In that moment, she made the conscious decision to let him do it if he wished. How wicked, how wonderful, what a perfect dream to be kissed by a handsome stranger in the moonlight, a bold hero from faraway lands—just this once, taking this one chance, before she had to do her duty by her family and marry someone she could never love.

There was no danger of him finding out who she really was—she wore a mask! she reasoned above the drumbeat of her clamorous pulse. Edward need never learn about this, nor anyone else in all of gossiping London. What else were masked balls made for but these kinds of naughty little adventures? It harmed no one. She could enjoy this secret, indulge the rampant curiosity this man had aroused in her on sight, and keep this memory locked away to get her through the cold, long years ahead.

Just this once…

With a gentle pressure on her waist, Major Knight began turning her around. She yielded willingly to his guiding touch, her pulse a staccato. When she faced him, she looked up and, oh, yes, to be sure, it was he—Derek Knight, conjured from a dream, looking truly like the embodiment of every woman’s fantasies.

Now that they were so close, she could appreciate how impossibly handsome the man really was. Her gaze traveled over his chiseled face with its marvelous, strong bone structure. His eyebrows were thick and black, gracefully feathered, his sculpted lips fashioned for temptation. Most magical of all, however, were those magnetic eyes, piercing, pale blue-silver in the night and full of mystery. She looked into their glittering depths and saw the moment that Derek Knight realized his mistake.

He furrowed his brow, moving back slightly, then one eyebrow shot up as he stared at her in amazed recognition. “You!” he breathed.

Lily smiled mischievously at him, and his fine lips parted in surprise, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. He let out a soft laugh. “What a fortunate mistake!”

“Not who you were expecting, Major?” she taunted, lifting her chin.

“Better. Much better.” His potent glance skimmed downward over her, but he seemed hesitant about coming close again. Somehow she found his sudden caution endearing.

“I saw you on the stairs,” he informed her.

“I know. You were staring.”

He frowned at her in mock reproach. “You ran from me.”

Lily held his gaze. “Well, I’m not running now.”

“Who are you?” Derek whispered, entirely bewitched. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She shrugged her delicate shoulders and leaned back a bit against the railing behind her, swinging the folded fan that dangled from a strap around her wrist. “Nobody in particular.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” he murmured in frank admiration, mesmerized by her languid motion and suddenly longing to kiss that elegant wrist. “Have you got a name?”

She favored him with a coy smile. “Of course I do.”

“I see. But you’re not going to tell me what it is.”

She shook her head, her eyes dancing behind her pale-colored half-mask. “It wouldn’t really matter, would it?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Your fame precedes you.”

“Hm,” he said sardonically, realizing that could mean any number of things. Still, Derek found himself charmed by her refusal to tell him her name. Any sort of denial from a female was indeed a novelty. Back in the ballroom, her beauty had first arrested his attention, but now that they were face-to-face, he quite liked her sly confidence and her air of cool grace.

He folded his arms across his chest and studied her in roguish fascination. “You seem to have the advantage of me.”

“Yes. Major Derek Knight, newly arrived from India.”

“I’ll be going back there soon,” he replied with a nod, offering the information as a pretty bald hint that if she wanted to know him, she’d better act fast and cough up her name.

“Why?” she inquired.

“Fortune and glory, love. Same as any man, Miss—?”

She shook her head slowly.

“Stubborn,” he murmured, smiling. “Very well, then. Keep your lovely self a secret if you must.” If he had to kiss it out of her, he’d learn her name eventually, but for the moment, he could enjoy playing along with her flirtatious game. Indeed, this whole situation appealed to the naughtier side of his nature, arriving for an illicit tryst only to find the garden folly already occupied.

Must be a popular spot.

He angled a discreet glance casually over his shoulder, but he saw no sign yet of a jealous suitor on the way, nor of his own companion for the night. He was suddenly in no hurry for Lady Amherst to arrive.

It wouldn’t be long before she appeared, but in the meantime, Derek decided he certainly would not mind tasting this lovely vixen if he could get away with it—a most intriguing savory, a dainty hors d’oeuvre before the main dish.

He assumed she was here for the same reason he was, an illicit garden tryst, and he concluded without much thought on the matter that she must be either a widow like Lady Amherst or some ancient peer’s neglected young wife.

Either way, she was fair game.

What a beauty.
He let his stare travel over her in rich pleasure. The moonlight kissed her pale blond tresses with a white-gold glow, her upswept coiffure the height of elegance, with a few alluring tendrils kissing the curve of her neck. Above the floating cloud of her sequined skirts, her bodice drew his appreciative gaze to her slender waist and sweet round breasts, a lush, enticing body full of sensual promise. If he wasn’t mistaken, she seemed to fancy him, too, the inviting arch of her body sending him cues that hinted at her willingness to let him come closer—despite, of course, her refusal to tell him her name.